I don’t think I’ve ever really been hiking. I’ve been in the mountains before. I’ve climbed some marshy cliffs in Ireland with my nose dripping and my tennis shoes sopping wet. I’ve walked through wooded hillsides in Spain and France and I’ve jogged through semi-manicured trailed in North Dallas. But hiking? Like with a need for a certain backpack and knowledge of the terrain?
No. I’ve never done the kind of hiking that actually requires a certain hiking shoe. Or a certain kind of backpack. I’ve always had an aversion to buying those boxy cargo shorts and strange hiking pants that make women look like a 1910 archeologist. I’m not kidding about that either. The uniform for hiking has certainly not lured me to the sport. It’s one of the pain points for me NOT joining the sport.
And yet this November I’ll be flying overseas for over 12 hours to get to a foreign country just so I can hike up a hill.
In the Shadows
Really, it’s a mountain. Or the side of a mountain, but everyone says it’s fairly easy. Easy in the sense that there is little chance of being chased by wolves or snakes, or sliding off a cliff or something of that nature. The worst thing is that it requires a few days of acclimating to the altitude unless we all want to get sick.
I have no idea what I’ve gotten myself into. Except that while I know altitude sickness is a real thing, it tends to be the kind of thing I just refuse to accept I will ever get. What always lurks in the back of my head is stomach issues with the local water, straws and ice cubes. Because there will be a day that I get comfortable in Nepal and then WHAM! I’ll end up needing to live in the bathroom for a few days.
Back to altitudes. And weird hiking boots that are more functional than fashionable. And I’m not even saying that I’m the most dressed-to-impress kind of person. But I do prefer to dress up. I do prefer my green and orange faux-fur coat over giant backpacks stuffed in a particular fashion with rolled-up blankets and bottles of water.
And yet, I’m so excited to go. Despite needing to wear an entire ensemble that is foreign to me, I cannot wait to meet the people of Nepal. I can’t wait to walk through the markets and hear their language. I daydream about meeting the women and children and men of the local teahouses where we will stay the night on our way up Mount Everest. I know that tourists are nothing special to them, they see them every week, probably every day, but I can’t wait to see the people who live in the shadow of the mighty Everest.
Forgotten by the West
In America, in the West, we tend to see places like Nepal as places so far away from us. As I said in my last post, Nepal was never really even on my radar of places to visit. I always tended to be a more Eastern European girl with tendencies towards Japan and Thailand. Nepal was a country in the world that just didn’t make it on my top twenty to visit.
And yet now it’s at the top of the list. Not that I’ve bumped any because I need to see all of those, but it has found a way to snuggle right up next to Finland and Russia and Hungary and force them to move aside for a second.
I think the very idea that Nepal was a place that simply wasn’t in the forefront of my mind is what makes it more endearing to me now. It’s emblematic of the way we tend to lose focus of the people in this world who are suffering, especially when they aren’t in front of our faces on a day to day basis. Our news shows nothing from around the world, not the good or the bad, and for that, I’m a little grateful because I can go into Nepal simply full-of curiosity and very little bias. (I say very little because I will read up on the history before going because I can’t help it).
First and foremost, I’m going in order to see if it’s possible for a woman of western privilege and blessing to go and BE a blessing to a nation that is never spoken about in the West. A forgotten nation to the West. I wish to be a literal and figurative blessing to each person I meet there, an idea that excites me more than anything else.
I don’t yet know how that is going to look like, but I’m sure God knows. He never forgot about the people of Nepal, as I did. They are at the forefront of His mind every day. And even if could be a small part of showing them that they are loved and not forgotten, I would come away even more blessed. That’s the thing sometimes about mission trips: they change you so much you tend to feel like you’re coming home more blessed than the blessing you left. But the great thing is, the people on the other side usually feel the same way.
So, yes, I’m going hiking. I’m buying some weird boots that I have to break in beforehand, I’m buying some strange pants and shirts and I’ll even strap on one of those backpacks, all so that I can try and be a beacon of light to any of the people I come into contact with. I can’t wait to hear their language, and possibly a few stories through an interpreter and see their beautiful country, tradition, and artistry. And it’s going to be amazing.